


Page 19

by drownedinblissfulconfusion (tundraeternal)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Character Bleed, First Time, M/M, Slightly Dom!Misha, Slightly Sub!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/pseuds/drownedinblissfulconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during an alternate Season 7.  Jensen gets word that Dean and Castiel are going to enter into an on-screen romance, and the minor crush he's been harboring on Misha begins to get out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Page 19

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not personally know any of the people I'm writing about. As far as I'm concerned, these are fictional characters in some alternate universe (which exists someplace between our own and the French Drop universe) who happen to bear some resemblance to our boys. Their conversations, personalities, and innermost thoughts are generally extrapolated from plausible reality, occasionally made up from whole cloth. For purposes of this fic, Jensen is not married. (I would have liked to work Danneel in, but she just didn't seem to fit. I'll make it up to her next time!)

**_On the set of Supernatural_ **

Jensen shuts his eyes and licks his lips. He’s sweating under his--Dean’s--flannel layers, and for just an instant he wishes Jared were here. That’s ridiculous, of course; if Jared were here he would be making Jensen’s life a living hell the way only Jared knows how. Jensen grounds himself back in reality and thanks his lucky stars that Jared is in Texas visiting home. He takes a few quick breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and shakes himself to loosen his tensed muscles. Dammit, Jen, you can do this.

“Alright guys, ready for action?” calls Bob. 

Jensen breathes in deep and turns around. He meets Misha’s eyes, electric blue under the hot lights, and his stomach clenches. Fuck. He’s never going to make it through this shoot.

* * * * *

_**Three days earlier** _

Jensen is spread out on his couch, staring at the ceiling of his trailer, and wondering whether he’s got time for a decent nap before he gets called to makeup. He’s just letting his eyes drift shut when he hears a footstep on the stairs, followed by a light knock. 

“Come in!” It’s open; he rarely bothers locking it when he’s inside. 

“Hey Jen,” comes an unusually tentative voice.

“Misha!” Jensen’s wide awake now, with butterflies in his stomach. “What’s up, man? Come on in!” It’s not unusual for Misha to come to his trailer, but at this early hour it’s not likely to be social. As a wakeup call, however, it’s unparalleled. Maybe he should see if he can get that added to his contract. ‘Any early call must include a visit from Misha before 7.00am.’ From there his thoughts begin to stray into the dangerous territory of waking up beside Misha, and he shakes his head and puts that firmly out of mind. Those fantasies are strictly for late nights when he is very, very alone. Not to be thought of when Misha is standing right beside him. 

“Morning. I brought you some coffee. Thought you could probably use it.” Misha hands the paper cup over the back of the couch. 

“Hey, wow, thanks. Is this a special occasion? Did you lose a bet or something?” Jensen shifts over to give Misha room to sit, and breathes in the hot steam. Can’t beat fresh Tim Hortons. Even if it comes with strings attached; it’s not like Misha to be doing favors at ass o’clock in the morning out of the goodness of his heart. 

Misha chuckles, which earns him a raised eyebrow from Jensen. Misha’s not a chuckler, Jensen knows from rather close observation (closer than he'd like to admit). It means he’s nervous. Which makes Jensen nervous. 

“Alright, spill.” Jensen puts the coffee down on the table and leans back. “Did Jared put cyanide in it or something?” 

Misha doesn’t rise to the bait, just sits fiddling with a folder on his lap, and Jensen’s heart leaps into his throat. “Mish, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen to Vicki? Westy?” 

Misha huffs out a real laugh, finally, and Jensen relaxes. “God, no, nothing happened. Sorry. Sorry. My head’s just somewhere else today. No, Bob just asked me to drop this off with you. Script revisions.” He passes the folder to Jensen.

“You a PA now? Good promotion for you.” Jensen pulls the script out and takes a look through it. 

“Page nineteen. He, um, thought we might want to talk about it.” The expression on Misha’s face is unfathomable. 

Jensen stares at him for a moment, trying to work it out. Shit, are they going to kill Castiel? For good? His chest feels tight. Misha meets his eyes and Jensen quickly looks back down, thumbing through to page nineteen. Where the original script had had Dean storming out after a harsh word, it’s now a fully fledged argument between Dean and Cas; looks like they’re finally venting their frustrations. About time, too. And then, just before the bottom of the page: Castiel kisses Dean. Jensen’s jaw drops. 

He can feel his face heating up. He’s always blushed too easily. 

“We probably should have seen it coming, of course,” Misha offhands. 

“Well, yeah, I-,” Jensen stops as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Why, exactly?”

“No I just mean, the way things have been between us--Cas, I mean, and Dean. You have to admit, we’re pretty charged.” Misha throws a smirk his way. 

“Yeah yeah yeah, no, you’re right.” Jensen's tension loosens a bit. If Misha’s back to innuendos, it’s a good sign. “So, you’re good to do this?” He glances out of the corner of his eye, watching for Misha’s reaction. 

“Yes! Yeah, of course; we’re both professionals! It's just the same as any screen kiss. Right?”

“Yeah, you got it.” Professionals. Yes. 

“Terrific. Great. Okay, I’ll see you in makeup then!” Misha slaps a palm on Jensen’s shoulder and is out the door in seconds. 

“Well,” Jensen tells himself. “That’s different.”

The butterflies in his stomach refuse to settle.

* * * * *

He watches Misha closely for the rest of the day. There was an undercurrent to their conversation that morning that Jensen can’t put his finger on. He’s got about three theories going currently. One, that Misha is nervous about kissing a man on camera. Considering that Jensen has seen Misha kiss men in public several times, this theory doesn’t hold a lot of water. Two, that Misha could tell Jensen was nervous, and was afraid Jensen was going to blow a gasket. But surely if that were the case, once they’d both declared themselves fine with it, the tension should have eased. And there is definitely still some tension. The third theory is making Jensen break out in a cold sweat, so he’s trying hard to make a case for theory one or two. In the third scenario, Misha is freaked out because he knows exactly how Jensen feels about him. Kissing a guy on camera may be all well and good, but screen-kissing a guy who harbors secret, guilty fantasies about getting you naked? Well, that’s a whole different ball game. Anyone would be wary.

So Jensen watches, and tries to read the motives behind Misha’s every word and look. It’s perplexing, because he quickly realizes that Misha is doing exactly the same thing to him. That’s a point for Theory Two, he supposes. Misha’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jensen puts on his best smile, breaks out his frat brothers attitude, and gets to work reassuring Misha that it’s all Totally Fine. 

Of course, in the roiling recesses of his mind, he’s a long way from totally fine. He can’t get his brain to stop dwelling on Misha’s comment about them being ‘pretty charged’. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock; god knows the fans are wild about the idea of Dean and Cas being in love (not to mention the fans who think Jensen and Misha are interchangeable with their characters). And he knows Misha acknowledges it in public. But somehow, making an innuendo about ‘cockles’ to get an auditorium screaming, it’s not quite the same as acknowledging it in the privacy of a trailer, just the two of them. And as much as he hates to admit it, it's getting him kind of hot and bothered.

Jensen snaps out of his reverie to realize that Jared has snuck up behind him and is humping him while Bob talks to Harvey about framing a shot. Jensen bats him away, and they’re gasping with laughter, in the midst of an epic slap battle, before Bob calls places again. 

* * * * *

“What’s up with you today, dude?” Jared asks Jensen, once the shoot is over and they’re back at home, enjoying a beer. “You were a complete space cadet for half the shoot.”

“Sorry, man. I’m fine. Just tired.” Jared may be his brother by any measure but blood, but no way is Jensen spilling this spoiler. He’s going to get enough grief after the fact when Jared realizes they’ve filmed something this monumental without him.

“Aww, don’t tell me you’re already missing me?” Jared puts on his impish grin and reaches over to pinch Jensen’s cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m not even leaving ‘til tomorrow afternoon! And we’ll always have Paris.” He bats his eyelashes for good measure. 

“Jackass!” Jensen laughs and knocks back the rest of his pilsner. “I’m heading up. Another early call tomorrow.” And another day of trying to rein in his nervous energy and sexual frustration, no doubt. 

* * * * *

The next day is both easier and more difficult. Easier because, with Jared gone, Jensen doesn't need to keep his game face quite as strong. Harder because he's filming with Misha: the scene after the fight--the scene after the kiss. It's not going as smoothly as usual, and Jensen knows it's the fault of his own anxiety. Now that he knows what's coming, he can't seem to let himself fall into Dean's rapport with Castiel. Each time he thinks he's almost in the zone, Misha's words come back to him, and he's Jensen again, trying to repress his own feelings. The line between actor and character is starting to rub him raw, and he knows the camera can see it. 

"CUT!" yells Bob, again, walking up to Misha and Jensen. "Look, you guys have read the script, you know where we need to be today, emotionally. We're not getting it. You can barely even look at each other! This isn't the time for being coy; you need to ramp the chemistry up, not down. Cas and Dean are working together here, in tandem," Bob makes intricate, vaguely pornographic hand motions trying to indicate 'tandem', and Jensen bites his lip. "For a change, they're on the same page. Let's all get on the same page, okay? Take a break for lunch, talk it out, whatever you need to do. And come back here at two, ready to go." He heads back to his chair, and signals for break. 

Over the noise of the crew shutting down and dissipating for their own lunch break, Jensen hears Misha behind him, softly clearing his throat. Jensen takes a deep breath, and turns, to forestall the questions he's sure are coming.

"Hey, Mish. Listen, I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today." He's gotta get rid of these nerves and get back inside Dean's head, or they'll end up with nothing to show for the whole day of filming. He hates wasting everyone's time. With an effort, he forces his eyes up to meet Misha's, hoping there won't be impatience and accusation. It's a relief when all that shows is a bit of nervousness mirrored back at him. 

"Ahah, about that. I think I might have an idea. Come back to my trailer?" 

Jensen's stomach flips at the sight of Misha's earnest eyes and half smile. He'd be lying if he said he'd never had fantasies that started like this. As he follows Misha out of the building, he has to bite down on his tongue to keep himself grounded in reality. This is real life, not pornography. He needs to keep his rebellious libido in check. 

But it's all for naught when Misha ushers him in with a nervous grin and firm fingers on the small of his back. When the door clicks shut behind them, he can feel himself getting hard in his jeans. 

"So!" he blusters, praying that Misha won't notice his bulge, or how unnaturally loud he sounds. "What, ah-"

"It's not just you," Misha interrupts. 

"It's what?" Jensen's been so focused on keeping his imagination at bay that he nearly forgot why they were coming here in the first place. 

"The scene, the filming, the way it's been off. It's not just you, it's me too." The camera would love the way emotions are playing across Misha's face right now, thinks Jensen. Apology and self-deprecation, a little embarrassment, and then, in the upturn of his eyebrows, hope. 

"Oh," Jensen smiles, his instinct to reassure. Anything to keep Misha from looking so much like a lost puppy. "I wouldn't have noticed. I mean I didn't notice." His voice is so gruff that he sounds like Dean. "I mean, like I said. I know it was mostly me. I just can't seem to get into Dean, you know?" 

"Yes! And, me too. That's where my idea comes in, I think." Misha's confidence is back. He's a man with a plan. "So the way I see it, usually, filming scenes out of order, it doesn't matter. I know Cas; I know how he behaves when he's angry, when he's scared, when he's confused. So it's not hard to get into character, wherever we pick up." He frowns and looks away from Jensen. "But Cas in love? Dean in love?" His eyes flash to Jensen and Jensen feels his breath catch, caught in the blue gaze. "I don't think we can get there by going around. I think we need to go through."

"What-" it comes out hoarse and Jensen clears his throat. "What do you mean, 'through'?"

"I think we should do the last scene before this one. Page nineteen." He nods, punctuating.

"Do... rehearse?" Misha nods again. "Rehearse. Yeah. Good idea." It IS a good idea. It makes sense, what Misha says about going through rather than around. Starting a little further back and getting to today's scene organically rather than jumping in feet first. Anything that'll help him get back into Dean and out of Jensen is a good idea. Except now Misha has a hand on his arm, and his mouth has gone dry. 

"Jensen, I know you well enough to see how worried you've been about this." Damn, so he hadn't been hiding it as well as he hoped. Misha must feel him stiffen; he gentles his voice and leans in. "So let's do this now, just us, no cameras, no pressure. We'll just... give it a go and see if it helps."

Damn, Misha is persuasive, with his low, soothing voice and reasonable words. Jensen is totally filing this moment away for some fantasizing later. Which of course he would never do over a coworker. Because he's a professional. Dammit. How did his harmless little crush get so out of control in just a day? 

"Okay," he breathes. "Let's do it."

* * * * *

They're positioned as best they can be in the small hallway of the trailer. Luckily, since it's Dean and Cas (who stand too close together even at the best of times) they don't need much room. Misha is right in Jensen's face and the fury in his eyes is terrifying. Looks like this impromptu rehearsal is going to do the trick; Jensen feels like Dean already. The lack of cameras and spectators helps. It's more like role-playing than acting, this way. He clenches his jaw and prepares for the fight. 

"Dean Winchester, you are the most infuriating human I have ever met," Misha--no, Cas, begins. 

"What do you even care? No one asked you to stick around. Why don't you go find your angel pals." It's angry, but it's also hurting. Dean is pleading silently for Cas to hear the lie in his words, and Jensen doesn't find it hard to put longing into the line. 

Cas steps forward, jabs a finger into Dean's chest. They're nearly nose to nose now. "Believe me, at this point, if I could, I would. But that's obviously not an option right now. I am here, with you, for you, _because_ of you. So please, do me the courtesy of accepting that as fact."

"Sure, yeah, it's fact for now, but for how long? I can't rely on you, Cas, when I know you're resenting like hell the fact that you're stuck here!" Dean is yelling into Cas's face, but he doesn't flinch.

"What I'm resenting," he hisses the word, his voice dangerously quiet after Dean's shouts, "is your attitude towards my being here at all. You've told me you need me, but you make it very clear that you don't want me." 

Jensen feels tears prickling his eyes and isn't sure if they're Dean's or his own. "Well forgive me if i'm not throwing myself at your feet! Maybe I'm just tired of putting everything on the line for a guy who doesn't give a crap about me!" Dean winces; he hadn't meant to sound so much like a jilted lover. 

"You think I don't care about you?" Cas sounds legitimately baffled. "You think my actions have meant nothing?"

"Man, I don't know what the hell your actions mean! I'm not in your head, remember? I don't know what kind of game you're playing and not clueing me in on this time--"

Without a second's hesitation, Misha's hand is in Jensen's hair and his lips are on Jensen's lips. 

There's a brief scuffle as Jensen--Dean--squirms, but he isn't trying to pull away, only bringing his own hands up to clutch at Cas's--Misha's--face. The kiss is a wild, desperate thing. The two of them strain towards one another, pushing strength against strength, hands gripping, mouths and teeth scraping together. 

Jensen's body is on fire. His pulse is racing and he's never wanted anything like he wants this now. He's about to start pulling them towards the bed, when he remembers: this isn't real. 

It's at that moment that Misha pulls back, breathing hard. He's clearly Misha, not Cas, and when Jensen sees the shellshocked look turning his blue eyes nearly gray, he drops his hands from where he's been clutching Cas's lapels. For a moment, neither of them speaks. 

"Well," says Misha with an attempt at a smile, "I think that worked."

Jensen can only nod, before there's a knock on the door and a PA lets them know they're wanted back on set in ten. 

"I'll meet you there, Mish. Just gonna run to the john." And do something about his accidental erection. Misha's trick to get them into character might have worked, but it's caused a pressing problem for Jensen.

Scurrying across to his own trailer, he shuts the door behind him, turning the button on the knob to lock. By the time he reaches the bathroom, he's already got his jeans unfastened. He pumps a squirt of lotion into his palm and, bracing one hand against the wall over the sink, wraps his cock in his fist. It won't take much at this point, he's sure. He strokes roughly, harder than he usually likes it, as though it's a punishment. With his eyes screwed shut he remembers the feel of Misha's mouth, the heat of his body. He grits his teeth and comes hot into his hand. It's hardly satisfying, but it does the job. Two minutes to wash up, and he's heading back onto the set. 

* * * * *

Luckily, he's able to stay in his Dean-space well enough that the rest of the scene gets filmed to Bob's satisfaction. It's not Jensen's finest work, he thinks, shrugging his own shirt back on in wardrobe, but at least it's not the mess it was earlier. And if every time he looked at Misha, all he could think about was the press of their mouths together? Well, Dean was feeling the same about Cas. Jensen's distraction would add the right color. He pulls on his jacket and heads out into the night. 

Misha, he notes, has disappeared. Jensen is oddly both relieved and disappointed. He focuses on the relief. It doesn't matter if Misha's avoiding him. Jensen's just glad they don't have to talk about the 'rehearsal' in the trailer earlier, because he has absolutely no idea what he would say. 'Sorry you're kind of making my fantasies come true?' 'Hope you didn't mind the boner?' 'Hey, character bleed happens, right?' His less-than-welcome thoughts accompany him all the way home. 

Back at the house, he pours himself a finger of bourbon and wills himself to forget it. He nearly calls Jared, just for a distraction, when he realizes that in this state of mind he'd probably blurt the whole situation right out, and he'd never heard the end of it. When he notices that he's wandered into the kitchen with no idea why, for the third time in a row, he carefully washes his glass and deliberately heads up the stairs to bed. He catches a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror, and stops. His eyes look haunted. It's ridiculous. 

"Jensen," he tells his reflection, "you are a grown ass man. You are a professional. Misha is your co-worker and your friend. He is married, and happy, and nothing is going to happen between you. You are better than this, and you are going to forget it." He heads to his bedroom, knowing full well that he doesn't believe a word he's said. 

* * * * *

In the morning, Jensen wakes with the cheery thought that if he can just manage today, that will be the worst over with, and he can go back to quietly daydreaming about Misha in the comfort of his own mind. Step one, he's got to get on set and get into character as soon as possible, so he can forget everything that isn't Dean Winchester. It's the only way he'll get through this without embarrassing himself. 

It works out right up until he's walking out of makeup and heading for the sound stage. Misha, who must be channeling Cas something fierce, pops up out of nowhere, and lays a hand on his shoulder. Jensen freezes. 

"Listen, Jen, you think we could talk after we're done today? I feel like," he pauses, "like there are some things that need saying." 

Jensen can't even hear his own voice over the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears, but he's pretty sure he tells Misha to meet him in his trailer after they wrap their scene. Whatever he said, Misha is nodding and heading inside, so it must have been coherent English, anyway. 

It's okay, Jensen tells himself. Better to get everything out in the open. He'll apologize, tell Misha that he'll be a gentleman, promise to keep it professional, promise to get over it as soon as humanly possible. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, and feels his awful adrenaline rush subside. He heads inside. 

* * * * *

Against all of Jensen's fears, it's even better than it was when they did it alone. From the word 'action', Jensen can tell the whole scene clicks, right on the first take. He _is_ Dean, and he means every word he says. He feels Dean's desperation, trying so hard to let go, and wanting so badly to be told that he doesn't have to. He's at war with himself and it's killing him, right up until the moment Cas reaches for him, and suddenly it all snaps into place. They claw at each other, grasping and gasping like drowning men. This is what Bob meant by 'chemistry'. This is what Misha meant by 'charged'. Whether it's down to the characters, or the way Jensen feels about Misha, this is just right. This is how it goes. 

Bob lets the cameras keep rolling as Dean pulls back, just slightly, to lean his forehead against Cas's, still clutching his shirt collar. 

"Cas, I- I didn't know-" Dean's voice breaks.

Cas runs a thumb across Dean's lower lip and follows it with one last, soft kiss. "I know. You know now." 

"CUT! That was perfect, guys, perfect!" Bob's on cloud nine, slapping them both on the back, making noises about getting hours of filming done in just fifteen minutes. Jensen can't stop smiling at Misha, who's smiling right back at him. "Alright!" Bob shouts to the room. "Crew on to scene 23, Kevin and the angels! If that goes well, we can all have an early night tonight!" Bob turns back to Jensen and Misha. "You guys are done for the day, that was fantastic. Made up for all the time we wasted yesterday. Bring this back tomorrow, huh? Jared's coming back, god help us; we'll need your best to cancel him out." 

As Bob wanders off, Misha tilts his head towards Jensen. "So, your trailer?"

Jensen's balloon abruptly deflates. This isn't his euphoria, it's Dean's. He plasters the smile quickly back onto his face. "Yeah. Ten minutes to get back into street clothes, and I'll meet you there."

* * * * *

Misha's already waiting on his doorstep when he gets to his trailer. They're both quiet as Jensen unlocks the door and ushers Misha inside. 

"You want a beer?" Jensen offers, just to break the silence. 

"Yeah, I'd love one." Misha's relief is palpable and Jensen wonders how long they can go before one or the other of them says what they came here to say. 

They drink in silence for a few minutes, leaning against Jensen's kitchen counters. Jensen doesn't feel it's his place to begin, since Misha suggested the meeting, but Misha seems content to focus on his beer. Maybe they need to ease into it. "So, great job today, man. Guess the rehearsal paid off, huh?" There goes subtlety; Jensen chides himself mentally. Bring up the first thing you don't want to talk about, why don't you?

"I guess so," responds Misha, but it doesn't really sound like he even heard what he's agreeing with. 

Suddenly Jensen's tired of nerves. He's acting like a teenage girl, for fuck's sake. Time to man up. "Misha, what did you actually want to talk about today? Cause I'm betting it's not beer."

Misha swallows his last sip and turns his focus to Jensen. It suddenly feels a little hot in the trailer. Or a lot hot. "About us," says Misha. 

"Ah," says Jensen.

Misha sighs. "Okay, I don't know how you'll take this, so I'm just going to say it. You and I have amazing natural chemistry, we proved that much in the shoot today."

"Yeah," Jensen laughs, "Lucky for Dean and Cas."

Misha turns that same, unreadable gaze on him. It's Cas, bemused by humanity. "Where do you think Dean and Cas came from, Jen? I was supposed to be here for, what, six episodes? And then Julie was going to kill me. Why do you think that did a complete one-eighty?"

"You know that, Mish. The fan reaction to Cas-"

"The fan reaction to _us_ , Jensen. You and me. Dean and Cas, that's you and me." Misha's pushed off the counter and is crowding into Jensen's space. It's uncomfortably reminiscent of their scene earlier today. Jensen swallows, noisily. "Jen, I'm pretty sure this isn't my imagination. But is it my imagination? Am I the only one who feels something here?" They're so close now that Jensen can feel Misha's breath across his own lips. 

"Mish. Misha." His head is spinning just a bit, and he doesn't think it's from half a beer. "Are you saying that- that we have- that you and I should-" he still can't say it out loud, he's still too scared.

"Only if you want to," Misha reassures as he takes a step back, far enough that Jensen can think again. He rakes his eyes down Jensen's body and pauses at his crotch, where his cock is straining noticeably against his zipper. "Call me crazy, but I think you want to. Or at least one part of you wants to. How about the rest of you?" 

"God, Misha." This time it's Jensen's turn to push in, to fist a hand in Misha's hair and dip his head down, mouthing at Misha's pink lips, tangling their tongues together. When Jensen slides his mouth up Misha's jaw, Misha huffs a laugh, low and breathy. Jensen nips at his earlobe and then pulls back. "What's so funny?"

"I thought I was going to have to seduce you. I wasn't even sure I could." Misha's eyes are dark and his lips are curled up in a predatory smile. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

"You have no idea," Jensen breathes, leaning back down to taste Misha again. 

"Mmm. Tell me." Misha's hands have found their way beneath Jensen's t-shirt, and he rakes his nails lightly up Jensen's sides. 

Jensen shivers and catches his breath. "I've only thought about it, like, every minute since you walked in here with that script." He stops as Misha kisses him.

"And before that?" Misha's hands are on his back now, running up and down his spine.

"Before that, ah-" he breaks off when Misha's tongue finds his Adam's apple. "Before that, only when I was alone. At night."

"In bed?"

"Yes, in bed." He's got to get his hands on Misha soon, but every time he moves, Misha's clever fingers hit some magic spot and he completely forgets what he's doing. 

"Did you touch yourself?" Misha murmurs into Jensen's neck, making his skin dance with the vibration of the words.

"Fuck! Yes, I touched myself. I thought about you and got myself off. Jesus, Misha, you're killing me."

Misha groans. "I'm killing _you_?" He dips a hand below Jensen's waistband and palms his ass. "Shit, why didn't you say something, Jen? This is years of sex we've been missing out on."

"You're married, if you hadn't noticed. I was being respectful."

"Really? Have you met my wife? She loves when I sleep with attractive men." 

"Yeah? Your wife thinks I'm hot?" That earns him a swift spank from Misha.

"Jen, wake up. Everybody thinks you're hot."

"Even you?"

"Especially me, you asshole. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm the one trying to get into your pants."

Jensen pulls back for a moment, serious. "So. We doing this?"

"You got something better to do today, Ackles?" Misha raises an eyebrow. He's teasing, but Jensen knows this is an out if he wants it. 

An out is absolutely the last thing he wants. "Shit, no. For you, my calendar is totally free."

Misha grins. "Then yes. We are definitely doing this." He moves back in for another kiss, pressing his body against Jensen's and grinding his hips. "Jesus, Jensen, I'm so hard for you."

"Prove it," Jensen fires back, but he's so breathless that there's no spark behind it. 

"I thought I was," growls Misha as he grinds in again, this time fitting Jensen's thigh between his legs so Jensen can feel his cock, thick beneath his zipper. "Less clothes. Now." 

Jensen is more than happy to comply, starting with Misha's. He unbuttons the cardigan and strips it from Misha's shoulders. The gray t-shirt follows it to the floor. Jensen's fumbling with Misha's belt (seriously, the man has the stupidest belt buckles) when Misha leans in and bites him, right at the junction of neck and shoulder, and Jensen throws his head back and moans. Misha takes advantage of the distraction to strip off Jensen's already rumpled shirt, and flick open the buttons of his jeans, slipping his hand inside. At the first hot stroke of his hand, Jensen forgets how to breathe. His hands clench reflexively at Misha's shoulders. 

"Mish!" He warns when Misha squeezes, oh so lightly. "We better move this to the bedroom." 

"You have something against the kitchen?" 

"No, I-" with Misha touching him like that he can't quite remember why he wanted to move in the first place. He definitely does not want to stop for long enough to get to the other room. 

"Jensen, christ, you're beautiful," Misha whispers. "I'm gonna take you apart all day." 

"Mish, _please_." He doesn't even know what he's begging for, just that he needs. 

Misha seems to understand. He kisses Jensen once, rough, then turns him around so he's facing the counter. A quick press of Misha's palm against his neck, and Jensen's bent over, forearms flat against the surface, with his jeans and briefs shoved down to his mid-thighs. Misha caresses Jensen's cock, running a finger gently up and down across the head and making Jensen shiver, before he wraps his fingers loosely around the shaft and begins stroking. 

In all Jensen's fantasies, he never pictured Misha jerking him off in the kitchen of his trailer. And he never imagined it would feel this good. His legs start to shake beneath him as Misha's hand works him faster. He clenches his fists against the counter, and Misha presses up close, chest against Jensen's back, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him up. Jensen can feel his orgasm building: the low curl in his belly, sparks at the base of his spine. Misha scrapes his teeth along Jensen's shoulder blade and the feeling intensifies, spreading heat all across his back. 

"Misha!" he moans, as his hips begin to piston, out of his control. He feels Misha's erection, still denim wrapped, rubbing against his ass with each thrust, and he relishes the roughness of the fabric. Misha begins to pant, his pace picking up, just slightly, and it's perfect. 

"God, Mish, just like that, just right," he chants. Sweat beads on his forehead and where his fists are still pressed tight to the counter. He shifts one foot, bracing, and with a moan he comes, spurting white and thick over Misha's hand and down the cabinet front. When his body begins to jerk with the pleasure-pain of oversensitivity, Misha releases his softening cock, presses a kiss against the nape of his neck, and turns him back around. 

His hands finally free, he takes hold of Misha's face and kisses his mouth, softly. 

"How did that stack up against your fantasies?" Misha smirks. Jensen would call him an arrogant bastard, if he weren't still so blissed out from the orgasm. 

"I'll take the real thing any day." Jensen knows he's got his goofy grin on, but he can't bring himself to care. 

"I love how sappy you get when you're happy." Misha gives his ass an affectionate squeeze. 

"Get back to the bedroom and I'll show you how happy I am." He toes off his shoes and kicks his jeans to the floor. When Misha starts to get handsy again, Jensen grips Misha's hips, steering him backwards down the short hall and pushing him down when his knees hit the mattress. Kneeling over him as Misha shifts up onto the bed, Jensen releases Misha's belt and unfastens his jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly and nosing into the damp fabric of his boxers. He revels in the flare of lust deep in his belly; now that his cock isn't begging for attention, he's got the patience to make this good for Misha. He can finally do all the things he's been longing for. Fast and messy against a kitchen counter is all well and good (and god, was it good) but Jensen has been thinking about this for the past two years. He has plans. Starting with getting rid of the rest of these damned clothes. 

Jensen pulls away and sits back on his heels, smiling as Misha whimpers and pouts. "Up," he commands, smacking Misha's thigh. Misha lifts his hips to allow Jensen to pull off his jeans, then his boxers. He pauses there for a moment, kneeling over the glory that is naked Misha. A day ago he'd told himself to stop dreaming. Now here they are. Funny how easy everything can become, all at once. 

"What are you smiling about?" teases Misha. "I know I'm pretty, but usually by this stage in the game we're past hungry stares and on to heavy petting."

"Don't you worry, we'll get to that. God, you're even hotter naked than you are in clothes." Bracing himself with both hands on the bed, he dips down to press a line of open-mouthed kisses along Misha's collarbone. He shivers as Misha draws long fingers up his back and squeezes at his neck. He's not a teenager anymore; he's used to needing a bit of refractory time, but he thinks Misha's hands might be jump-starting him. 

His mouth gets hotter against Misha's skin; he nips and makes Misha hiss. Trailing downwards, he scrapes along using tongue and teeth, and notes how Misha's body twitches with each sensation. He bites at Misha's firm pecs, waxed smooth for the shirtless scenes. As he feels the muscles jump, his own cock grows thick and heavy between his legs. So much for going slow. Time to step it up. 

He closes his lips around a nipple and Misha bucks beneath him, hips jerking up off of the bed. 

"Mmm, that's the spot," he teases when Misha moans. He reaches up to brush his thumb over Misha's right nipple, as he laves his tongue over the left. 

"Fuck, Jensen. I could come just from that." The way he's moving his hips, straining for pressure against his cock, tells a different story. 

Jensen takes pity and slides his mouth downward, arching his back and running his hands down Misha's sides. Misha's one hand slides into his hair, the other clutching at the bedspread, as Jensen presses the flat of his tongue against Misha's erection. 

"Jesus, your mouth." Misha scrambles to push a second pillow beneath his head, holding him up so he can watch as Jensen wraps his lips around the head of Misha's cock, runs his tongue up the slit and tastes the salty pre-come at the tip. Misha's entire body curls, his knees coming up to bracket Jensen's torso. As Jensen sucks him down further, Misha's legs squeeze tighter and his nails scratch Jensen's scalp. "Jen, fuck, 'm so close." 

As much as Jensen would love to have Misha come on his tongue, he's got other ideas for today. His cock, aching hard again, reminds him that there are other things he'd like to do before this show is over. He pulls off and breathes hot against Misha's dick, shining wet with saliva. "Not yet." 

"Fuck, you're trying to kill me," gasps Misha as he throws his head back and knits his eyebrows, eyes screwed shut. 

Jensen stretches himself back up along Misha's body to slip their lips and tongues together. Misha grips Jensen's biceps and pulls him down until they're flush together, cocks slippery and sliding. "Mish. I want you to fuck me." 

Misha's eyes open wide. "Jen, Jesus, you sure?"

Jensen prefaces his answer with a kiss. "I am really, really, really sure."

"Hah," huffs Misha. "Damn, you're an easy lay. I had no idea I was getting involved with such a sex fiend."

“Aww, you're just afraid I’ll wear you out.” Jensen smiles against Misha’s mouth.

"You wish!" With a quick motion, Misha has rolled them over and lies grinning down at Jensen. "Now please tell me you've got some lube around here somewhere."

"Nightstand." Jensen can feel himself flushing with the anticipation as Misha leans over to raid the drawer. He runs a quick hand along Misha's dangling cock before Misha bats him away. 

"No touching the merchandise," he warns as he sits back, lube and a condom in hand. 

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Yes, _sir_."

"Oh, 'sir', I like that; we're gonna come back to that later. Bend your knees." Misha uncaps the lube and hoists Jensen's leg over one arm, bending it up towards Jensen’s shoulder. 

Jensen shivers as the cool air hits his ass, cheeks spread and hole exposed. He heats up quickly, though, under the sudden intensity of Misha’s gaze. Misha licks his lips as he squeezes a dollop of lube onto his fingers, his eyes playing over Jensen’s body all the while. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Jensen’s knee, then slides his slick thumb down, from the back of Jensen’s balls, across the sensitive skin behind them until he’s circling around Jensen’s hole. 

When he pushes in with the tip of his thumb, Jensen throws his head back and cries out. The sound seems to spur Misha on, and a second later his whole thumb is in, shifting in small circles, loosening the muscles as Jensen gasps and twitches. 

“More,” Jensen gasps out, and Misha makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and complies, switching out his thumb for two fingers. He brushes Jensen’s prostate, and Jensen’s cock jumps against his stomach. 

“Misha, man, you gotta hurry up.” He’s desperate for it, his every nerve electric with the feel of Misha’s fingers inside his body. Misha scissors his fingers, and Jensen gives his aching cock a few small tugs just to relieve the pressure. When Misha adds a third finger to the first two, Jensen can’t help but push down, thrusting against Misha’s hand to get his fingers further in. 

Finally Misha relents. “Alright, cowboy, you think you’re ready?” he asks, his breathless tone belying the casual words.

“God yes,” Jensen gasps, reaching up to squeeze Misha’s arm. They lock eyes. “How do you want me?” 

“I _want_ you begging and moaning and crying my name.” Jensen feels a drop of pre-come leak onto his stomach at Misha’s words. Misha leans down to kiss him gently. “First, how ‘bout you roll over.”

In a flash, Jensen’s on his hands and knees. He reaches back with one hand to spread his cheeks apart.

“God, it’s hot how much you want me,” he hears Misha groan as he pops the lube open again and drizzles it straight onto Jensen’s skin. A long moment of waiting while Misha rolls on the condom, and then Jensen feels Misha’s hand on his hip, and Misha slowly, agonizingly slowly, begins to slip his cock inside. 

“Mish, fuck, come _on_!” With a grunt, he rocks backwards and in one smooth motion takes Misha’s full length in. For a fleeting second it burns, and then his body relaxes to accept it.

He hears Misha’s breath catch and then start again, harsh and ragged. Misha’s hands grip his hips, kneading into his flesh, as they begin to move together. It starts as shallow rocking, a bare inch or two sliding in and out; Misha getting used to the feel of Jensen around him, getting Jensen used to being filled. Before long, though, it speeds up; grows fast and wild, with Misha bottoming out, hips smacking into Jensen’s ass hard enough to jolt him with every thrust. Jensen leans down to brace his forearms on the bed, and moves his knees wider apart so Misha can get even deeper. Misha lets go of Jensen’s hips and leans forward, hands sliding across Jensen’s chest and breath hot on the back of his neck. It gives him the perfect angle for the head of his cock to brush Jensen’s prostate, and Jensen grits his teeth trying to keep from shouting. When Misha’s thumb and forefinger close hard over a nipple, Jensen can’t hold back anymore. He yells out, wordless and desperate, and bites down on the pillow beneath him. Misha’s rhythm stutters and his hands lose purchase on Jensen’s skin. 

“Jen, god, Jen,” he moans, trying to keep the pace as his orgasm overtakes him. Jensen shifts his weight to one arm so he can get his hand around his cock. It only takes a few strokes. As Misha stills, his fingers digging hard into Jensen’s flesh, Jensen lets himself go, coming hard onto his chest.

For a long, soft moment, they stay joined, Misha’s forehead resting against the nape of Jensen’s neck as they catch their breath. Then, with a kiss between Jensen’s shoulder blades, Misha pulls out and rolls onto his back. He slips off the condom and ties it, tossing it towards the trash. Without Misha to shore him up, Jensen collapses, heedless of the wet mess beneath him. 

“Fuck, we should’ve done that years ago,” Misha tells the ceiling. 

Jensen laughs and manages to lean over far enough to plant a kiss on Misha’s temple. “You’re pretty fucking fantastic, you know that?” 

Misha turns his head to smile back at Jensen. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Asshole,” chuckles Jensen, butting his head into Misha’s shoulder. 

“I know that, too.” 

“Hey what do you say we go back to mine, order some Chinese, and start making up for the past couple years?” Jensen gives Misha his best seductive eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” Misha grins at him, a huge, wolfish smile. “That sounds perfect.”


End file.
